Treading Water
by seventeenandcrazy
Summary: The 70th Hunger Games through the eyes of Annie Cresta. She doesn't expect to win or even come remotely close, but through sheer luck and will, she manages to be the victor-but at a painful cost.


At dawn, I am out by the east docks again, watching the sun slowly emerge from the horizon. It could be any other day. The ocean is exactly the same as it always is. The gulls still fly towards the horizon. And the reeds still sway gently in the breeze. But today isn't like the other days of the year. It is Reaping Day today. Which means a pretty dress to wear and pretty ribbons in my hair. Which means that I will be standing in a square with all the other girls of District 4, packed like a sardine.

I touch my toe to the water and watch the ripples that expand. Endless, endless, endless circles. Do they ever really stop? How would we ever know if the ripples just continue on and on into the endless ocean? I like to think that they never stop. I like to think that they go on and on in the wide ocean. In school we learned that the earth is round, but when I asked if there was anything on the other side, my teacher told me that there was only Panem. Only us. It's sad to think about. Only us on this entire planet. Only our Capitol and our twelve districts. Sometimes I look up at the stars and wonder if it's only us in the entire universe. But then my stomach starts to hurt and I think bad things and I close my eyes and count to ten and go back inside.

"Annie, dear." I hear my mother's voice from our back porch. I know what she's wearing even before she turns around. The same dress she always wears on Reaping day. It is yellow, like the sun, with a pattern of paler diamonds on it. She says the gold color will bring good luck. She smiles every time someone asks her about it. "Three children and not one picked yet," she tells them. Now that my older brothers have turned nineteen, it is just me left. Including this one, I have four more reapings and my mother's dress will have worked its magic.

"I'm coming, Mother," I say, standing up and walking towards her. She touches my shoulder softly, her eyes locking onto mine. She squeezes my shoulder and leans over to kiss me on the cheek. This is the first year where I am as tall as my mother.

The dress is lain out on my bed, sea-foam green with a scooped collar. I slip off my nightgown and slide into the dress, feeling the smooth fabric brush against my bare legs. Next to the dress are two long ribbons of the same color. I pick them up and sit in front of my mirror, brushing my hair and then tie the ribbons into bows. I blink and stare at my reflection. I know a lot of people in other districts have never even seen a mirror in their lives. But we are lucky in District 4. Most of our houses have a bedroom for each member of the family. My own has three-the largest for my parents, the medium one for Andy and Arnie, and the small one by the porch for me. We are one of the most affluent districts, save for maybe 1 and 2. Sometimes I wonder how the outer districts are. My father often tells us that there isn't much food out in 10, 11, and 12. That people go hungry. I can't imagine how it is to go hungry. We've had fish on our plates every evening every day of every year. Sure, it's the leftover fish, the ones too small or too stale for the Capitol, but it is food nonetheless.

My mother comes behind me and kisses the top of my head. She runs a hand through my long hair and smiles with her eyes. But I can see the worn look in her face as I touch her hand with my own and press it against my cheek.

"Yellow brings luck," I say, closing my eyes, imagining the blindingly yellow sun and yellow wheat that I've never seen before and yellow rows of corn. Just yellow, yellow, yellow…maybe if I think of just yellow, I will come out of this Reaping unscathed again. I open my eyes and find my reflection staring back at me. I tilt my head towards it, watching myself.

"Come on. We'd better get going, dear." My mother gives me a final pat on the shoulder and starts walking to the door, knowing that I will eventually follow. I like to get there later, to take my own path to the city square. Because I don't like the mass of people.

I leave out the back door and instead of walking down the main street and past the other white-washed houses with porches; I walk along the beach, my feet sinking into the white sand. I think of more yellow things that I've only read about in school. I think of buttercups and sunflowers and canaries and city lights. When I close my eyes, I see a bright flash of yellow. _This is good_, I think to myself, clenching my fists so that my nails dig into my palms. _This is good. _

When I do get to city square, the last few people are assembling, and I quickly slide into the twelve to eighteen girls group, giving my name to the Peacekeeper and standing quietly in the back row. The escort from the Capitol is wearing an inordinate amount of blue. Her powder-blue wig is all curls and frills and she has on ridiculous looking shoes designed to look like fish. _How creative, _I think, wryly.

"Good afternoon, District 4!" says the lady. "I hope you remember me from last year! I'm Gloria Bauble." She launches into the customary speech about the honor of being chosen as a tribute and the history behind it. I close my eyes, thinking of yellow butter and yellow. When I look again, I find a few of the girls around me giving me odd looks and rolling their eyes. I don't even react, used to these kinds of stares. At this point, I can barely here what the lady is saying. I am focused on other things and her words are but a jumbled mess.

I watch as Gloria trots over to the glass bowl that holds all our names. I can see her, but at the same time I see the golden sun, setting on the horizon. I can see the water turn that brilliant color with no name as the sun shimmers on it. I can practically smell the sea, that salty and fresh scent. It is only until I feel the stares around me that I snap out of my daydream and find that Gloria has read a name off the little slip. The stares around me are tangible. I squirm uncomfortably and then stand on tiptoe to hear Gloria repeat the name she has just called.

"Annie Cresta."

My brothers often made a habit of shoving me into the water when I was sitting on the dock. That split second of terror right before I hit the water, the initial impact of being pushed…I feel that now as I freeze where I am. My chest constricts and the sea of girls in front of me parts, giving me a straight path to the stage.

"Where is she?" asks Gloria, peering to the back. Someone points towards me and Gloria waves, gesturing for me to come forward. "Well don't be scared now."

She's right; I am not scared. I am beyond terrified. I can hear the blood ring in my ears and I cannot even feel my feet as I slowly and mechanically walk towards the stage. I can't even feel the eyes on me. I can't even hear anything but the thumping of my own heart.

Before I know it, I am on the stage, and Gloria is presenting me to District 4. The sea of people is churning in front of me. The faces are blurred and I can feel my breathing almost stop. I have to look away. I whip my head around to see the screen and people behind me. The mayor is there, as well as the victors from our District. And then I see Finnick Odair.

Unlike the others, fixed on Gloria as she walks over to the boys' bowl, Finnick is looking straight at me. There is concern on his face and his eyes glance over me, a worried look evident. I realized now that I am almost keeling over. He motions to stand up straight and tries to offer and encouraging smile. He takes a deep breath, signaling for me to do the same. I do. And I wonder if he remembers me.

Gloria has selected the slip of paper. The boys are all holding their breath, fear on each of their faces. Now that I am no longer in my daydream, I can hear Gloria read, crisp and clear.

"Christopher Aquanis."

And when I hear that name, any ounce of hope I had of possibly winning the games vanishes. Chris is one of the boys who trains almost every day. He's about a foot and a half taller than me. And even if I had the physical capabilities, even if I could pin him to the ground and slice his throat, I just…couldn't. Chris has lived next-door to me for ten years. If it came down to just me and him, I would let him kill me.

Gloria asks for volunteers. No one raises their hand. In District 4, we have an unspoken rule about the way Reapings work. Should someone be called who is the only child in their family, then someone else _must _volunteer. We treasure our children in 4 and we know how important they are to maintain a family's business. But I have two older brothers and Chris has a younger sister. So we can afford to be gone.

The mayor stands up to give a speech. I am still frozen to my spot and directly on the opposite side of the stage Chris is motionless as well. Time passes in its strange way. Some moments pass in a hazy blur. Others are drawn out, long and tedious. I don't do anything besides be pushed around and guided this way and that. At that moment, I accept the fact that I am going to die.


End file.
